Tampons
by ImHungry
Summary: What in the world do I do if I get my period? Use it to my advantage and bleed all over my opponents with my womanly secretions? Lute Patriarch, a girl with all the wrong priorities.


**Epilogue**

What in the world do I do if I get my period? Use it to my advantage and bleed all over my opponents with my womanly secretions? You would think after 58 years of games they would realize you gotta give the females their equipment. Nothing against them, just it would suck if you leak because your uterus decides to send a tsunami when you're trying to drive an axe through a guy's head. Because that's just embarrassing.

Listen to me, my biggest dilemma of all things is my monthly visitor. Though that is a mighty viable concern, there was currently many, many viable concerns I should have at the moment. Like perhaps how I, Lute Patriarch, am standing on a stage overlooking the soot covered, bedraggled faces of district 12, shaking the hand of a green skinned, blue haired, whiskered fellow that is surprisingly human. The thing is I'm not a people person so this is not only making me extremely uncomfortable, but showing all these poor people the true meaning of sweating buckets. Usually I wouldn't give a damn but I was currently wearing my Sunday best, or more like my only dress. A pretty thing, with lace running all along the hem. And why may you ask am I wearing such a thing? Because today is the reaping. And why am I standing on this stage? Well, because now I'm going to die.

Which really sucks.

His eyes examined me, surveying me, running down to my filthy boots and back up to my feral hair. Runs in the family. At the rate that he's staring holes into my coat, I wouldn't be surprised if he could glare beneath my jacket revealing equally wild undergrowth around the armpit region. Like I said, runs in the family.

Haymitch Abernathy. The victor of the games from district 12, my home, 8 years ago. You wouldn't be able to tell now, especially with the effects of alcohol hitting him hard. Meaning the trace of vomit down his shirt and rancid breath leaking out of his lips. A pity, really, that shirt would've fetched a good price, district 1 grade silk, and his lips too, now if only they didn't smell like sewage...

"...-te, Lute."

I jerk my eyes away from his lips, "W-what?"

"Your name. You have a weird name," he scowled ", and not too pretty either,"

_FWOOOSHHHH_

There goes sound of anything positive I ever thought of him dying in a flaming cauldron. I forced out a smile, the fake twinkly-eyed kind that waitresses use to force your guilty conscious to give her a tip. Now that I think about it I'm not so different from a waitress, just that I was trying to wrench out something actually beneficial to me from his nasty mouth. Haymitch doesn't have the best reputation for usefulness, unless you like vomit, than you'll absolutely _adore _him. "Yes, Lute Patriarch. Pleasure to meet you Abernathy,"

He cocked his head and squinted at me like how you would inspect your shoe for dog shit "Now that I think about it, you're not too bad, if I look at you from the corner of my eye. It reduces my urge to vomit at the sight of you."

You flirting with me? Gosh Haymitch you're making me blush.

Haymitch gave me his dog feces squint, "You're doing it again, that zoning out thing. Jesus christ you don't know how much I wanna—wait. Where's the boy?"

I looked around the room admiring the red velvet walls and glass chandeliers, unfortunately also making awkward eye contact with another tribute, quite a good looking tribute too. What district was he in again? I think it was district 4, wait no, probably district 3. Woops side tracked.

"Well it doesn't matter, his fault for wasting time. Hey you listening to me, _Lute_?" stressing the Lute. "You anti-social or something?"

No, I just have a strong desire to neuter you.

Haymitch shook his head and brushed his hand through his coal tinted locks, a motion that momentarily mesmerized me. Who knew an exasperated Abernathy could be so—

"Sooo," I took a step towards the door, eager to get away from the other tributes and the tension. The tributes were really beginning to freak me out, the aura that oozed off of these freakish so called children spelled _danger_. Despite probably being the oldest one there I was also the smallest and I knew that wasn't the only thing that they dwarfed me in; I was never really good at fighting. I pulled at my tawny brown hair with my clammy hands, motioning towards the door. His eyes flickered towards me and strode out the door, me scrambling after him.

"So, what are we going to do?" I said trying to break the silence.

1 minute, 2 minutes, 10 minutes…no response.

"Uh would you remind relaxing the pace a little, no need to hurry right?"

Haymitch showed no signs of slowing down, actually, I think he went even faster. What made it all the more frustrating was the fact he was just briskly walking, while I on the other hand was practically running. The wonders of being 5' 2".

And then he stopped, I nearly slammed into him. He turned around, staring at me bent over trying to catch my breath.

And then he punched me.

"What the fu-?!" I stumbled backwards, managing to skirt out of the way for the most part. Apparently he didn't hear me and proceeded to aim a steady kick to the head. Dodging to the left, my mind began racing. I've never had someone trying to beat the living shit out of me after knowing me for less than an hour.

My closest record was two hours.

Breaking my train of thought, I felt a foot connect with my side leaving me spluttering for breath on the floor and more than a little ticked off. _Honestly_ _what the hell is this guy's problem_, I didn't do nothing to him and he treats me like shit, actually life in general is treating me like shit. It seems to be becoming a trend.

As his next kick came, I placed my hand lightly on the limb and with a gentle push to the side, he very nearly fell over. Taking advantage of the opening I leaped towards him, his eyes met mine, surprised, and rather easily with his balance offset; he was sprawled on the floor.

I was gasping for breath but I was pretty happy with myself, looking at Haymitch on his ass looking as confused as if I had grown a penis. But I was still pissed.

"Do you really hate me that much?!" I shouted. Our little shuffle had formed a small, curious crowd but I ignored them. I wouldn't usually blow up at something like an attempted smack down, but I was sick and tired of all this crap. I kicked the floor uselessly and sighed "I know I'm just some sacrificial goat to you and heck you can go ahead hating me for all I care but—just please…" I stopped mid-sentence and stared at him dumbfounded.

I was expecting a snide remark, a sneer, to get yelled at or another kick to the head but no, Haymitch the ass was laughing, laughing his ass off. And then he was up, grabbing a bottle of wine and staggering down the hall, laughing all the way.

I stood there for a moment thoroughly confused as the crowd slowly dissipated around me and continued to do so, unmoving, wondering what the hell I got myself into.


End file.
